Page 232 of A Taste of Vanilla

“No,” Marley says. “I don’t think you do.”

“Marley.”

She looks at me, and I don’t have to say anything else. Her face softens just a touch before she grabs her laptop and storms out the door toward Saints & Sinners without another glance.

Warren steps forward, his fingers barely touching my back. “Do you want me here?” he asks.

I close my eyes, breathing him in. “Yes.”

When I open them, I find his eyes burning into mine. A second later, he moves to stand at the end of the counter.

Elise’s eyes flick to Warren, then back to me. “I can come back.”

“No,” I insist. “You’re already here.”

Her shoulders lift with a breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words soft but landing loudly against my chest.

I don’t respond.

“I know that doesn’t fix anything,” she starts.

“It doesn’t.”

She looks at the ceiling, her eyes shining. “I’m not here to ask you to forgive me.”

“That’s wise of you.” My voice comes out stiffer than I’d like.

Elise nods. “I’m here because you need to know something.”

Something in my stomach tightens, and the bakery suddenly feels too bright. A couple by the window stops pretending not to listen. Dev, bless him, moves toward them with a tray.

“Hey! Emergency pastry sample. We need your opinions on…” His voice fades around me.

Lisa places a sign on the door that reads BACK IN TEN.

Elise watches the people move around me as a tear slips down her cheek.

“Come to the back,” I tell her.

Warren looks at me, but he doesn’t question it. I nod, assuring him that I want him there.

Elise follows me, maneuvering around Warren, who stands at the counter with his arms crossed over his massive chest. When we’re all in the kitchen, he takes his place by the sink.

Elise looks smaller back here. Her coat too polished for the flour-coated floor, her shoes much too careful.

“What do I need to know?” I ask her, chewing on my lower lip as I lean against the table.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a cream-colored folder. “Emails,” she says. “Some texts. Screenshots. I printed them because I didn’t know if sending them would be…” She pauses. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want my number or if I’d be blocked immediately.”

I nod.

She sets the folder on the prep table and slides it toward me. I don’t pick it up.

Her fingers curl around the strap of her bag. “Proof that the review wasn’t random.”

The kitchen goes still.